I am the tiny apple seed

I’m the gnarled apple tree

I’m the blossom and the tart-sweet fruit

I’m the man who eats of it

I’m beasts that feast on every bit

I’m the air that trees and creatures breath

I’m the lightning strikes it down

I’m rain that washes ash to ground

I’m the Earth that takes them in it’s womb

I’m the seed that germinates

I’m the bee that pollinates

I’m the apple-sappling grows next spring

I’m the scorched and buried root

I’m the struggling springtime shoot

I’m the apple tree that grows in spring

Spirit is the basic stuff

The universe is made up of

It’s the force that drives and binds all things

this simple spirit manifests

When time… conditions are all best

To become the beast, the sky, and me

and if conditions don’t align

Spirit changes – bides it’s time

Seeds are still-born, fruit rots, and I die

But death is just a change of form

Spirit goes on, it’s reborn